


Nightclub!fic

by juliadawson



Category: The Libertines
Genre: Clubbing, Comedy, M/M, Seduction, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5910148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliadawson/pseuds/juliadawson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically Carl attempts to seduce Peter after he begins to lust for him when they were out clubbing. Sorry I suck at these but give it a chance!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightclub!fic

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever so feedback would be extra appreciated! Don't be afraid to say negative things either :)

Carl takes a deep calming breath and looks around. Yep, same shitty club, same drunken idiots showing off their ridiculous dance moves, same unbearable heat that makes him question the quality of his deodorant and his hair stick to his forehead. Typical Friday night. 

Except today he can't take his eyes off the two unusual figures leaning back against the bar. He discreetly (or at least he hopes so) glances over Peter's shoulder for what seems like the millionth time tonight as his friend sways gracefully to the pulsing rhythm.

Ah, there they are. Not just his overeager imagination then, Carl notes to himself yet again. He can't blame himself for not believing his eyes: the sight is almost heavenly. Two of the most beautiful boys he's ever seen, their eyes locked as their bodies move together, taller one grinding his mate's hips into his own with firm hands on his waist. The view alone makes his super skinny jeans seem like a really terrible choice.

Instead of quickly averting his eyes and having another mild sexual identity crisis Carl lets his gaze linger a little bit longer just this once. He'll just blame it on the alcohol and pretend it never happened tomorrow, if he even has the misfortune of remembering. 

Yet again, Carl is led to realize this was another bad decision that added to the series of mistakes that composed his life. Just as soon as he decided to let himself peek for a minute longer, the sandy haired boy with his mesmerizing green eyes caught Carl in his embarrassing drooling session. Of fucking course this is happening to him.

Instead of getting uncomfortable though, the boy just lets his lips curl into a lazy half smile, eyes never leaving Carl as he whispers something in the taller boy's ear. 

Next thing Carl knows they're passionately making out, the slighter boy opening his eyes to watch him every now and again.

His eyes go droopy with lust. What in the name of fuck is happening? Not that he's complaining.

“Watcha looking at back there huh Carlos? Found your victim for the night then?” Peter shouts over the music with an amused smile as he turns around to see what the hell Carl had been staring at for that long. Shit. 

Peter quickly turns back, eyes wide and glinting, sporting the biggest smirk Carl had ever seen in his life, the annoying bastard.

“Biggles, dear,” he says teasingly, an expression of mock confusion gracing his features, “And here I was all this time thinking you were straight? Or at least this is what you make sure to tell me every couple hours, anyways.” 

Before Carl gets the chance to respond – or run away to fucking Italy and never come back, like he was beginning to consider – Peter goes on, his shit eating grin never faltering.

“I understand you though. They're fucking alright aren't they? And putting on a show just for us! How very kind of them” Peter leans back against the wall to watch unashamedly, mostly to tease Carl and make him die of embarrassment just that little bit more. He was never letting that go was he? 

“C'mon Pete, leave them alone. It's just unusual is all, seeing gay couples 'round here and everything,” came his unsure mumbled answer.  
“Well alriiiight,” He makes sure do draw out the word. Carl would've punched him if he wasn't so scared. “Still believe my theory better though.”  
“And that would be?” Carl manages to feign annoyance.  
“That you were staring 'cause you fancy them, obviously” Pete winks and runs a slow finger down his torso to demonstrate his point, stopping just short of Carl's hipbone and bursting out laughing. “Don't look so terrified, love, 'm just takin' the piss”

Carl just exaggeratedly rolls his eyes and prays to whatever god that may listen that Peter didn't notice his massive erection. Fucking unwanted boners. Carl isn't a teenager anymore, why does he still have to deal with this shit?

He frowns at himself and lets Peter's swaying rhythm guide him back into dance.  
***  
The rest of the night could have gone by pretty uneventfully: Pete fortunately seemed to forget The Incident almost as soon as it ended. Sadly to Carl, this was the first of three problems. 

One: Peter simply forgot. And that meant his skinny frame quickly went back to Pete's usual clubbing routine. Head thrown back and eyes closed, mouth slightly open, completely immersed in the music, letting the beat guide the jerks of his body. 

He looked as if he was here just to dance and enjoy himself, completely unfazed by the outside world.

Carl knew better though. He knew Peter hated this kind of music, and he sure as hell knew Peter was here just to pick someone up and take them home as quickly as possible, the massive slut. He rolled his eyes.

But his facade had its effect nonetheless. He could already see the flocks of pretty girls watching, wondering why that stranger wasn't in the least paying attention to them like all the other pathetic idiots.

Peter let his eyes flutter open, noticing the first girls who bit his bait and winked dirtily at Carl.

Which lead him to other two problems: he was still positively horny from the eager display of affection by the two guys- it's not because they're guys though. I just have a voyeurism thing is all. Yeah. That's it. - Carl reassured himself. 

And three: he was absolutely wasted on whiskey and X, which made all of Pete's usual innocent touches all the more electrifying. 

Peter's hand casually resting on his hip or touching his chest for support to scream random observations close to his ear. Kisses way too close to his lips to thank him for bringing their next round of drinks. Bodies almost pressed together for lack of space when the club got progressively fuller as the night went by. Carl tried not to shudder each time he felt Peter on his skin (which was an unholy amount of times, if you asked him).

Well, I'm sure this will all go away tomorrow, Carl reasoned. Other than quick unwelcome thoughts here and there, he didn't actually fancy his best mate, for fuck's sake. At least when he was sober.  
He goes to sleep repeating this to himself.  
'It'll all go away, Carl. Relax. You'll forget all of this tomorrow...'

Nope. The morning comes, the dirty thoughts about Peter remain. He's pretty sure he had a sex dream involving him. Thank God his pounding hangover prevented him from remembering it while it was still fresh in his head. That would've been a problem.  
***

Weeks go by and instead of forgetting, like Carl helpfully instructed himself repetitively, his mind keeps collecting little arousing things Pete does to replay at the most inconvenient moments. 

He remembers that evening when they were chatting on the sofa, a football game Carl didn't care about on the telly. How Peter would stop to glance at the screen periodically, muttering unintelligible sport stuff – like Carl cared- at himself, taking swigs of his beer. A single drop of the liquid escaping from his pouty red lips and dribbling down the neck of the bottle. The ridiculous whimpery sound he had to choke back as Pete absent mindedly licked the neck from base to top to catch the tiny speck, his eyes still on the tv. 

He remembers all the times Peter laid sprawled on his bed, hair a mess, shirt riding up and revealing his pale stomach skin with that trail of dark hair he just wants to lick.

He remembers the looks of arousal in Pete's eyes as he brought home the prettiest girls and boys he could find, pupils dilated and cocky smile. Oh, the sounds that came out of his room. Pete was definitely a screamer. 

Carl sighs. This was getting out of hand. He forces himself to think of something to do about the situation- preferably avoiding getting a panic attack in the process.  
***

“Relax, Carl.” He murmurs to his own image in the mirror. “You'll just ask him to that new club that opened near our place. Nothing unusual in that. There you'll proceed to get the most pissed you've ever gotten and make small moves. See how he reacts. Can't go wrong, really”

He hears a barely repressed giggle to his back and almost jumps. Great. Fucking amazing.

“Talking to yourself then?” 

Pete walks in and stands right by his side in the mirror. He looks like he's ready to go somewhere. Skinny denim jeans and green shirt with a wide collar, to flaunt his sculpted collarbones. Carl had caught himself thinking about licking melted chocolate off of them more than once this past week. Damn his stupid random sweet cravings. And damn his even stupider Peter cravings, come to think of it.

“Going somewhere without inviting me, you bastard?” Carl decided this line of thought was better than the one taking over his mind.  
“You can be a right jealous fucker sometimes, you know Carlos? Didn't invite you 'cause I'm going to that gay bar across me mate's house, know you're not into that. Craving some cock today, you see,” He smiles devilishly.

Perfect, Carl caught himself thinking, before he quickly scolded himself.

“Fucking disgusting, I didn't need to know,” Carl tries his best to sound convincing, “And you can forget that for today. You're coming to that new club with me. We've been planning that ever since it opened, for Christ's sake.”  
“Well I'm sorry Carl, but I already told him I'd go.”  
“Okay then. I reckon you've got a new best friend. Fine. I completely understand.” A barely repressed smile peeks through and Peter snickers.

“Manipulative cunt,” a drawn out sigh, “Alright, I'll come. But first you might as well tell me how I look since you're already checking me out and all,” Pete's grin is lascivious. 

Fuck. Did he really notice Carl was staring at his arse? All his fault, wearing those ridiculous skinny jeans. His cheeks colour a bit even though he's pretty sure Pete's just messing with him as usual. 

“You look fine Pete, don't worry.” 

Carl reminds himself he was supposed to be flirting here. He curses himself for not getting a bit drunk before he started this. Was 'fine' really the best he could do?

His mind doesn't need to express it's indignation though, as Pete's very quick to show his own.

“Fine? Are you fucking serious?” Peter looks at himself in the mirror, “Check out my devilish good looks right here! I'm probably the hottest guy in the building,” He winks at Carl through the mirror. “No offense, Biggles. 'm sure you could get third place or something, right after ol' Mr Davies down the hall.”

Carl knows he should be annoyed, but he can't help but smile. “Alright I admit it. I was just casually trying to repress my need to jump your bones, you sexy ---” Peter cuts him off with a hit to the arm, obviously knows Carl's kidding- is he, though?-, wide grin on his face. “Ow! That was fucking uncalled for, you bastard”.

***

They're draped together on the couch, Peter's arms around Carl's shoulders as they make stupid jokes and take swigs off a cheap bottle of rum. 

Carl has been drawing slow circles over Pete's thigh with his finger as he listens to him shit talk his newest a boss. Not that he's paying attention to a word he says. As soon as he felt the burning confidence running through his veins, he's taken to feeling Peter up every chance he gets, and that doesn't leave room for much more thought.

He knows Pete's enjoying this too. He'll every so often interrupt his story to plant a kiss on the top of his head, and squeezes his arm for effect every time he reaches an important point in the narrative. 

Carl leans his head on Pete's shoulders, turning his face so his mouth touches his neck. He breathes deeply to take in his scent. Ah, that I-haven't-taken-a-shower-in-at-least-four-days smell… So comfortingly Peter.

He gathers Pete's reached an important turn of events, so he mutters an “Oh shit, what did he do then?” right against Peter's neck, making sure his lips brush there as much as possible. 

This seems to have the desired effect: he can feel slight goosebumps start showing and one of Pete's hands involuntarily comes to grip at the back of his neck a little too forcefully. Carl congratulates himself. 

The hand on his neck starts running through his hair, playing with silky tresses, but Pete's still babbling about his mundane albeit slightly romanticized -in true Peter fashion- tale.

Carl can't help but feel a bit annoyed. Apparently subtlety won't work with Peter. 

He should've known. Excessive touching has become so common among the pair of them that today must feel no different than the average day. But hell knows Carl's almost dying with the sexual tension...

This calls for desperate measures, then. 

He cautiously reaches inside his pocket for a coin. Tosses it up a couple times, still nodding to Peter's words to make sure he thinks he's listening. He'll have time to feel ashamed of himself in the future. His nightly 'most embarrassing things Carl Barât has done in his life' sessions were in need of a little update after all. 

Okay, Carl. Now's time.

The coin 'accidentally' slips, landing right between Peter's open legs. Carl smiles at his amazing aim and slips to the floor to pick it up, his head emerging between his friend's knees. He puts on his best coquettish face, looking up at Peter through his dark lashes, pupils blown out. 

This seems to work. Pete's mouth hangs slightly open and he twitches a bit on his seat, his expressive eyes giving away everything Carl needed to know.

He props himself on Pete's thigh for support and gets himself back up. “Sorry, mate. What were you saying?” 

Peter seems to notice for the first time he's stopped talking mid sentence. He shoots one inquiring eyebrow up at Carl, but continues nonetheless. “Oh, right. So then...”.

Several minutes pass by, and Carl still can't stop grinning to himself. Oh, he wants me alright.

Pete's still talking, but there's a newly added weight in the air, strange among the usual easygoing nature of their chats. Time seems to slow down dramatically, light touches burn Carl's skin and begin to feel like questions.

Just when Carl's decided he'd much rather stay in tonight, Peter looks at his watch. 

“Gettin' late Biggles, guess we'd better take off if we plan on ever getting to the club!”. Dammit.  
***

Tonight seems very much like every night, except Pete is even more touchy than he normally is. As soon as they find a nice place to begin with their dancing, Peter's hands fly to his waist, getting Carl to follow his movements. 

He has no idea how Peter can feel so good. Carl feels intoxicated. 'Well, I'm actually pretty knackered to be completely honest,' he reasons. 

He lets his hands roam boldly through Pete's body, taking advantage of how high his confidence had gotten after all that alcohol and the sexual fizz was sure he felt back at home.

Or at least he thought so. Peter, the fucker, seems to have other plans. 

“I think this is where we say goodbye mate. Gorgeous little blonde eyeing me up back there,” he shouts as close to his ear as he can manage.

“Nooo no no nonono, you don't wanna get involved with… Er, Jessica Miller,” Carl improvises. This is why he went to acting school, after all. He almost chortles with laughter at the thought, what the hell was he thinking?

“You know her? And why wouldn't I? She's way too fucking hot.”

“One word, Pigman. Chlamydia.”

“Oh,” Peter makes a face and turns away, “Guess you have a point, for once in your life,” and they're giggling together at their dirty little secret, easy as that. Carl doesn't even feel bad that he's made it up at the spot and that poor 'Jessica' was left wondering what she did wrong to lose Peter's burning gaze.

'That's what you get for trying to steal my man!' Carl thinks, and immediately has a striking urge to throw himself off the nearest bridge. Guess it's time to stop thinking, he has some business to get back to. 

He lets one of his hands start going freely up and down Pete's back, the other pulling him slightly closer by his waist, and shoots Peter the most insinuating look he can manage, daring him to do anything.

Pete's eyes cloud over instantly in lust and definite realization, and Carl suddenly finds himself being pushed backwards towards the closest wall, Pete's body pressing against his own.

“Now, Carl, are you trying to seduce me?” He's breathing heavily at his neck, “'Cause it might be working.”

“Where'd you get that idea?” His finger starts tracing that exposed collarbone he's been dying to touch all night. “Was it me throwing myself at you back home?” One hand sneaks itself inside Peter's back pocket. “Was it me nearly coming whenever you looked at me too long?” He grinds himself against Peter's leg, “Or was it fucking 'Jessica Miller'?”

Peter lets out an unattractive snort of laughter at that. 

“You stupid thing! If you'd told me that a couple hours ago we could've been on round three by now,” He looks at Carl so wantonly he almost blushes, “Though I gotta admit chlamydia was pretty brilliant.”

“Ah, it's no fun if you skip the seduction,” He smiles brightly. In all honesty, he just wanted to make sure Peter wouldn't freak out.

“God, Carl. You've been driving me mad all night.”

And he's leaning in, lips Carl's been dreaming about for roughly a month finally touching his. Peter's an amazing kisser, sure, licking and nibbling and sucking on his tongue, getting little moans to bubble out of Carl's chest, but the magic's really in his hands.

An open palm on his back presses Carl flush against Pete, their bodies completely connected from the waist up, hips rocking languidly. Another hand holds his neck strongly, nails digging at the skin, carefully controlling his movements. 

They finally break the kiss for breathing, and Carl's panting when Peter moves to his neck. Carl opens his eyes to analyze the room, and he remembers they're not alone. Curious kids quickly avert their gazes as Carl catches them one by one, and like the pretty lads from that night that now feels like forever ago, he almost wants to put on a show. 

He smiles and lets his eyes flutter shut again, reveling on Pete's full attention when his mouth goes back to his for a desperate kiss. Carl doesn't remember being this horny ever since his first time with a girl. Speaking of which…

Peter breaks the kiss so suddenly it startles Carl, his face searching for Pete's in confusion before he opens his eyes.

“Carl!! It just occurred to me! You're a virgin, aren't you? I mean, you haven't been with a guy before, yeah?” Carl's face feels hot. Peter just had to say that, didn't he?

Peter's properly beaming at him. “Oh, we're gonna have so much fun! Have you ever been rimmed before?” Carl's cock hardens at the vivid imagery his mind quickly provides him, heat going through his body in waves. He nods no. “Well, I bet ya twenty quid it's gonna get you screaming.” 

And he's being pulled by the hand towards the exit, heart beating so fast he thinks he's gonna pass out.  
He might forgive Peter just this once, though, if he keeps the thousand little promises he's been making with his words and touches.

******  
End! 

sorry for any mistakes or odd phrasing I didn't have a beta and English is not my first language! 


End file.
